LIBRAn, OF CONGRESS. 

Chap. Copyright No. 

Shelf.'LCj^^"^~y/f^ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



HEART'S EASE 

AND 
OTHER VERSES 



Of this first edition only 500 copies 

have been printed, each of which is 

numbered and siirned 







HEARTHS EASE AND 
OTHER VERSES by 

JESSIE ^^ORTON.^.^^^e^.^«^ 




CLEVELAND: XTbc :t6urrow0 asrotbcrs 
Company, publishers, mdcccxcviii 



IS 



— # ■. I . 1^ .^ 



2nd COPY, 
1896, 












A: 



'^^'>5f 



Copyright, 189S 

BY 

Jessie Norton 
all rights reserved 



BE Die A TION 

This little book, O mother mine, 

I dedicate to thee. 
For all the love and tender care, 

Thou hast bestowed on me. 




CONTENTS 






Page 


Heart's Ease . . . .it 


My Little Girl 






12 


Memories 






14- 


An Old Time Song 






16 


In the After while 






17 


The Yellow-Headed Baby . 






18 


Not Afraid . 






20 


Mirabel's Garden 






21 


As He Saw Her 






23 


The Eittle Schoohnarm 






24 


''Mutatio'' . 






26 


As a Child . 






27 


Comfort 






28 


Christina 






29 


The Smiling Little Faces 






30 


Ln Memoriam, N N. T. 






32 


His Llaffy Fantasy 






33 


The Little Ghost 






35 


The Candle Light . 






37 


Angels of God 






39 



Day-Daxvn . 

His Little Comforter 

Acrostic — To Nellie 

The Sleefing Beauty 

Cousin Ann Elizas School 

A Kind Little Soul 

Sfring Song 

Unappreciated 

''Three'' 

Hymn for Close of School 

The Leaf Bud 
dinger Exercise 

Out of the Window 
Acrostic — " Columbus'' 

Game to Teach Five 

The Naughty Kitty . 

Christmas Rhyme 

The Baby's Visit 

Acrostic — " Christmas" 

Exercise Song 

The Lesson of the Ants 



Page 

40 

41 
42 

43 
47 
49 
50 

51 

52 
53 
54 
55 
56 
57 
58 

59 
60 

62 

64 

65 
66 




HEARTS EASE 

When you've done the best you can, dear, 

And things go very wrong. 
Don't pucker up your forehead, 

But sing a little song. 
For maybe there's another 

Who's feeling just as sad. 
And your little burst of music 

Might make him bright and glad. 

Have you ever seen the pansies. 

Nod their heads low in the rain? 
You think, when looking at them, 

They are very full of pain. 
But these downcast little blossoms. 

With a more transparent hue. 
Will lift their heads in beauty 

When the frowning skies are blue. 

So oft our Heavenly Father 

Sends a little bit of woe, 
To draw us nearer to Him, 

To make us pure, you know ; 
But He's such a tender Father, 

And He loves both me and you. 
So He'll surely send His sunshine 

When the frowning skies are blue. 



Ibeart's Ease 



MT LITTLE GIRL 

Of course the little girl was just as much of mine as 

hers, 
But somehow, when our wedded life got full of 

pricks and burrs, 
I told her that she'd better take the little one and go 
And stay a spell at Newton creek, along with Uncle 

Jo, 
While I'd go off to some far land and there I'd work 

and live 
Until I'd quite made up my mind, which one was to 

forgive. 

I tell you pride's an awful thing when it gets in the 

heart, 
I guess it was a thousand times, I thought I'd rise 

and start 
And go right after her and that little maid of mine. 
I never heard a word from them, she never wrote a 

line. 
Then I had a spell of sickness and counted through 

my tears. 
And found I hadn't seen them both for more than 

fifteen years. 

12 



an& ©tber IDerses 



Oh, my pretty laughing darhng, she must be tall 

and fair! 
How I'd rig her out in ribbons and feathers rich and 

rare, 
I could almost feel my fingers upon her soft white 

brow, 
That little sunny head of hers would touch my 

shoulder now, 
Yet the strangest thing, in all my dreams, she was a 

little child, 
With the yellow curls of babyhood and big eyes 

round and mild. 

As soon as I was better, I started on my way 

And reached the town at noon-time, one hot and 

dusty day. 
And near by, in the church-yard, I stopped to rest 

and wait. 
There was a little baby's grave close to the mold'ring 

gate; 
I pushed aside a straggling vine, kind o' curious, no 

more, 
Great God, my little girl lay there, dead thirteen 

years before. 

13 



Ibeart's Base 



MEMORIES 

Just a little woman, 

Musing all alone — 
Yet within the faded eyes 

A dim, sweet twilight shone. 

Through the garret windows 
Streamed the sun's broad gold, 

Lighting up the spinnet, 

Quaintly carved, of ancient mold. 

Sitting there in silence, 

Her fingers on the keys, 
Saw she wondrous visions 

Of gardens and green trees. 

Heard she dreamy music 
Of songs, that he had sung, 

Lingering near the spinnet. 
He, who had "died young." 

Would he ever know her. 

Feeble, old, and gray? 
His glad boyish beauty 

Had only seen life's day. 



14 



an& ©tber IDerses 



Ah, in God's own morning 

She should be all fair — 
Star eyes that ne'er would weary, 

Soft bloom and golden hair. 

Trembling, why she knew not, 

With fingers ill at ease, 
She struck the chords, then smiling. 

Stooped and kissed the yellow keys. 



% 



15 



Ibcart's JEase 



AJV OLD TIME SONG 

A little old time song — 

Sung on a summer's day, 
By children, whose wet feet 

Danced in the ocean's spray. 
"Oh, little drops of dew. 

Oh, tiny grains of sand. 
How small you are, but then 

You make the pleasant land." 

The children played the while 

I measured in my soul 
The little deeds of love. 

Yet what a mighty whole. 
If every man would give 

Unto his neighbor's own, 
A part of that true love 

He bears himself, alone. 

Then through the realms of earth 

What songs of living peace. 
For Christ, as King, would reign, 

The woes of all men cease — 
Ah, tiny grains of sand. 

Do fill a shining space, 
But little deeds of love, 

Lead to the Father's face. 
i6 



an& ©tber Derses 



IN THE AFTER WHILE 

His little face was like a sun 

That shone into this soul of mine, 
His baby laugh a thrilling run 

Of sweetest music, half divine. 
E'en yet I see him standing near, 

I gaze into his steadfast eyes, 
Which look, with vision bright and clear, 

On fairer things in Paradise. 

Yet naught can part that boy from me. 

And when the years have run apace 
I too, shall cross death's restless sea 

And look upon that little face. 
And when I walk the hills of gold 

Which his white feet have ever trod, 
My heart's full joy cannot be told. 

To know that he has lived with God. 



17 



Ibeart's Base 



THE TELLOW-HEADED BABT 

When the yellow-headed baby came to Perkinses to 

stay, 
The children stuck their noses up and said they 

wouldn't play. 
They'd never waste vacation time attending likes of 

him 
From the very early morning until the stars were 

dim. 
They wondered what he came for, he wasn't wanted 

there, 
Nine of them a'ready and they hadn't room to spare. 

He never owned a 'broidered slip or dainty ruffled 

cap; 
Was never crooned or cuddled down save in his 

mother's lap. 
A helpless, weakly little thing, who knew no love 

but hers. 
His life, a stony roadway, all bordered round with 

burrs, 
Until one sunny morning they found to their surprise 
A boy a-toddling on his feet, with laughter in his 

eyes. 

i8 



an& ©tber Derses 



Last week I saw the doctor's gig a-stopping at the 

gate. 
They'd evidently changed their minds, the boy was 

now to wait, 
And not go journeying off from them unto the hills 

of God. 
His tiny feet must walk the path his little brothers 

trod. 
And I heard the children crying, with a tear in every 

eye — 
"Oh, we're 'fraid our darling, darling little baby's 

going to die." 

This morning he was better, I met his father, Jim, 
A big and burly carpenter, I saw his eyes were dim. 
And his lips were all a-quivering as if with unknown 

fears. 
But oh, his eyes were shining and a-smiling through 

his tears — 
"I'm so glad, I cannot help it, for I heard the doctor 

say. 
That little yellow-headed chap of ours was going to 

stav." 



19 



Ibeart'6 JEase 



NOT AFRAID 

My little maid 

Was so afraid 
Of shadows in the nursery room, 

I used to feel 

Her small arms steal 
About me in the twilight gloom. 

It fretted me 

That she should see 
The darker by-ways of this life ; 

Its bitter tears, 

Its doubts and fears. 
And agony and hopeless strife. 

But pearly gates. 

Where Gabriel waits, 
Were opened for my darling sweet. 

Yet heavenly bloom 

Leads through the gloom 
And who should guide her little feet? 

When, lo, the child 

Looked up and smiled. 
She must have seen the angels nigh. 

My little maid 

Was not afraid — 
Hush ! do no cry. 



ant> ©tbet Derses 



MIRABEL'S GARDEN 

"Mirabel, out in the garden, 

Down by the wicket gate, 
What are you planting, my darling, 

In rows so cunning and straight? 
Some little nut brown seedlings. 

Dropped into earth's dark gloom 
To blossom in wonderful beauty. 

Long ere the summer's bloom." 

Dear, little, wistful gardener — 

She lifted her face to mine, 
And, lo, in the child eyes shining. 

Was the light of a love divine. 
And, yet, as I bended o'er her. 

The strangest garden was seen. 
For planted so deep and true and strong 

Were the tips of an evergreen. 

Then, with her small face flushing, 

She answered me, grave and still, 
"I am planting some baby Christmas trees 

For the children over the hill. 
The poor little ragged children, 

Who never, never have known 
What it was to dance round a Christmas tree 

All of their very own." 



Ibeart's Base 



I snatched the child to my bosom 

And clasped her close to my breast. 
My poor, little, dusty gardener, 

Who had done her very best! 
And then with the tenderest caution 

I whispered what she didn't know; 
That her Christmas trees for the children 

Would be scattered before the snow. 

So oft on our weary journeyings 

Over this life of ours, 
We scatter the seeds of a lavish love 

And never see the flowers. 
Sometimes our brightest ambition 

Dwindles a candle spark, 
And the deeds that we deem the truest 

Are hidden away in the dark. 

And yet in His pitying mercy, 

God remembers we are but dust ; 
And though our mistakes be so many, 

Yet in Him if we put our trust. 
Surely He'll guide and protect us 

Over life's turbulent seas; 
And clasp us at last, as I did the child 

Who planted her Christmas trees. 




an& ©tber tDerses 



u4S HE SA W HER 

His dear dead wife lay sleeping 

Beyond his loving call. 
The gracious Lord had taken 

His dearest and his all. 
For what were lands and children's 

Children, without her, 
Who, through the wilderness of life 

Had strewn him balm and myrrh. 

They saw him clasp within his own 

Her soft and withered hand, 
And gaze at her half smiling — - 

And they could not understand. 
Unless he saw her waiting 

At the gates of Paradise, 
White winged, in robes celestial, 

With holy radiant eyes. 
Nay, nay, he saw no angel vision 

With starry crown. 
But just a tender, girlish face 

With clinging locks of brov/n. 



23 



Ibeart's Base 



THE LITTLE SCILOOLMARM 

I've done discussing schoolmarms, their punishments, 

and such, 
And all their ways and doings don't fret me very 

much, 
For I'd a true experience a year or two ago; 
I learned a few things, gentlemen, that I was glad 

to know. 

Our little lad came home from school, his eyes all 

wet with tears; 
It took us half the noon-time to quiet down his fears. 
He said that she had whipped him, that she was 

cross and old — • 
She never did a single thing but sit and fuss and 

scold. 

The little one was innocent — I started for the school 
To tell her who and what I was and lay her down a 

rule, 
The afternoon was very hot, my temper hotter still. 
And it had reached a boiling point when I had 

climbed the hill. 

I had my speech all ready ; I started for the door. 
I guess she saw me coming, for she was there before. 
And met me all a-smiling, with a welcome in her eyes. 
I was the one to tremble, I found to my surprise. 

24 



anC) ©tber IDerses 



The light was on her forehead, the Hght was on her 

hair, 
The h'ght was all around her, like a glory everywhere. 
Her eyes were like blue meadow flowers, we loved 

when we were small, 
Her gown, the self-same color, and she wasn't very 

tall. 

I couldn't say a single word, my throat was parched 

and dry. 
I nodded her, "Good afternoon," and slowly passed 

her by, 
"Come in and rest;" the sweetest voice that I had 

ever heard. 
The mingling of a baby's laugh and the singing of a 

bird. 

That night, 'twixt eight and nine o'clock, I let the 

shingle fall. 
And since that time we've never had a single fuss at 

all. 
So when you speak of schoolmarms as being cross 

and bold. 
She rises up before me, all shining blue and gold. 



25 



Ibeart's Base 



'^MUTATW 

Thus she came from heaven : Fair and sweet, 
With tiny dimpled hands and rosebud feet. 
A little maid with ever quest'ning eyes, 
Of how or why she came from Paradise. 
An earth-born child, yet portioned as to seem 
An angel's second self or flitting dream. 

Thus she entered heaven: Shy but wise, 
With sweet snow face and gentle star-lit eyes, 
Yet left behind a misty picture — rare, 
With holy smiles and shining, shimmering hair- 
All wrapped, yet seen, within a whirring cloud, 
The living angel of our hearts' cold shroud. 



26 



ant> ®tber Derses 



AS A CHILD 

A band of little scholars — 

Book and slate — 
Each tiny hand must wield them 

Soon or late. 
Yet what sweet knowledge 

Baby lips do bring, 
Of flowers and great white stars, 

Of birds that sing. 

A band of little scholars — 

With shut eyes, 
Dreaming of wondrous things 

Beneath the skies. 
Or looking unto worlds 

Not seen — afar — 
Where God's white throne and countless 

Angels are. 

A band of little scholars — 

Each will lose 
That stern sweet purity ; 

Yet one may choose 
The narrow way — if be 

Through tempests wild, 
And enter Heaven's gate — 

A little child. 

27 



Ibeart's Base 



COMFORT 

I know that the sun is shining, 

That the fields are a-bloom with flowers, 
Each swinging a dewy chalice 

Heavy with soft, warm showers. 
I know that the robins are singing 

Their happiest lullabies, 
But my heart is torn with the music — 

My nestling is in the skies. 

Not with her coral and silver bells 

Doth my own little daughter stand, 
She beareth a tall, white lily, 

Clasped in her tiny hand. 
Not with her wee face dimpled. 

Tenderly raised to mine. 
She gazeth with shy, new gladness 

Into the eyes divine. 

All through the blush of the summer 

I guided her small white feet; 
Now she hath heavenly teachers. 

And heavenly duties sweet. 
Safe, safe 'neath their tender guidance, 

Away from earth's frost and shine, — 
Thou wearest the crown of thine angelhood. 

Oh, dear little daughter mine ! 
28 



an^ ®tber Derscs 



CHRISTINA 

How very, very sweet she is, 

How kind and true of manner, — 
With gentleness, her only sword, 

And love, her golden banner. 
We press her fingers and we feel 

New life — a charm is o'er us. 
We gaze into her large clear eyes. 

And lo — the Light before us. 

She hath a kindly love and care 

For all her neighbor creatures, 
It brightens and makes glorified 

Her fair and girlish features. 
We, wondering, do ask ourselves, 

"Of whence this power to win her?' 
One answers, and we understand, 

"It is the Christ within her." 



29 



Ibeart's Base 



THE SMILING LITTLE FACES 

I've been a long time traveling, I've crossed the 

ocean wide, 
And gazed on many a curious thing upon the other 

side, 
I've climbed the tower of Pisa and seen cathedrals 

old, 
With their wondrous painted pictures and their cups 

of beaten gold. 
But I'm weary, weary, longing for my mountains, 

grand and tall — 
For the smiling little faces hanging on my parlor 

wall. 

Strangers thought I was a bachelor, for I had no 
wife along, 

And the women folks they smiled at me, of course, 
it wasn't wrong; 

But somehow I couldn't tell them that where moun- 
tain roses blow 

The one whom I had loved so well was lying cold 
and low. 

With the little ones around her, just within her 
gentle call — 

Oh, their bonny, bonny faces smiling on my parlor 
wall. 



30 



an& ©tber IDerses 



There was Bennie, little Bennie, with his dancing 

eyes of brown, 
Folks said he was the merriest chap they'd ever seen 

in town; 
And precious little Jackie, why he couldn't hardly 

walk, 
But he made such funny faces, said such pretty baby 

talk; 
And Cynthia, my Cynthia, she was growing fair and 

tall. 
And her sunny face still smiles at me down from the 

parlor wall. 

'Tis true 'tis God's own blessing in this world of woe 

and sin. 
When the clouds are hanging lowest, a little light's 

let in. 
I heard my neighbor's eldest boy, born 'long with 

little Ben, 
Declare himself in bitterness the wretchedest of men. 
And Deacon Whipple's daughter, who used to play 

with mine. 
Has seen the saddest sorrows, does naught but fret 

and pine. 
So, I thank the gracious Father when the twilight 

shadows fall 
That they're safe, and I've their faces always smil- 
ing on the wall. 

31 



Ibeart's iBaQc 



IN ME MORI AM 

N. N. T. (May, 1884.) 

She slowly climbed the Ladder of Life, 

The misty, quiv'ring Ladder — 
She entered upon its worldly strife, 

Just as the angels bade her. 

She placed her foot on the first gold round, 

She followed sixteen after. 
They've laid her low, in the damp cold ground, 

We miss her blithesome laughter. 

Her gentle soul has wandered away, 

Far from the realms of sorrow, 
It has reached the gates of lasting Day — 

The wonderful To-morrow. 



32 



an& ©tber IDcrses 



HIS HAPPY FANTASY 

"Haven't you seen a little lass 
Trudging along through the prairie grass, 
Say, boys, haven't you seen her pass 

Into the mining town? 
I sent for her yesterday morn, you know, 
I wanted to see her before I go; 
She's my little queen, no scepter to show 

But the fluffiest curls for a crown. 

"A kind little queen with a tender smile, 
She loved me well all that terrible while 
I was so wicked. She ran a mile 

For a kiss when I came away. 
I have missed her so, I have missed her so. 
'Tis alm.ost a year — ten years? Ah, no! 
My head is weak, it isn't that though, 

A year perhaps and — a day." 

The old man sank with his failing eyes 
Fixed as in hope on the sunset skies. 
As if from their glory she'd surely rise 

And greet him with soft eyes mild. 
He saw not the gleam of the heavenly gate, 
Nor the countless angels that there await. 
He only wondered why she was late, 

His beautiful, fair dream-child. 

33 



Deart's Base 



God's messenger stayed his sword of might, 
In pity he folded his wings of white ; 
For, lo, at the first of the morning light 

The hut door was opened wide. 
Ah, he had forgotten the years between ; 
No little round-faced maid was seen, 
But a golden-haired girl of seventeen 

Crept to her father's side. 




34 



an& ©tber IDerscs 



THE LITTLE GHOST 
[CM. B.C. {1830)] 
A volume of yellow pages 

Writ in letters dim and fine, 
Penned by the girlish fingers 

Of a dear little grandmother mine. 
And oft in the shadowy twilight, 

As I sit with the book on my knee, 
The fair little ghost of the writer 

Hastens to visit me. 

Clad in a bygone fashion, 

Bright in ethereal bloom, 
She comes with her star eyes shining, 

Into the darkening room, 
And stands but a moment, expectant 

Of some chamber, I do not see, 
And then with a soft little wistful sigh 

Drops by the book on my knee. 

White are the shadowy fingers 

Tracing the letters dim, 
Sweet is the voice of the little ghost 

Like the cadence of a hymn ; 
And I, who am only a stranger, 

Bend over the girlish head. 
(I saw it again in my agony, 

Silent and gray and dead. ) 
35 



Ibeart's lEasc 



Caroline, little ghost Caroline, 

Look into my face and see — 
Not in a single feature 

Do I resemble thee. 
Ah, but thy soft cheeks dimple, 

Thine eyes grow merry and glad, 
Have I the face and the yellow hair 

Like his, thine own lover lad? 

Brown are the eyes uplifted, 

Tender and true and sweet. 
And I seem but an elder sister 

To this little ghost at my feet. 
One, who never can know me, 

One, whom I never can know, 
And she vanishes into the shadows 

When the first stars begin to glow. 

Grandmother, dwelling in glory. 

When I have crossed death's sea. 
Come not as this fair little phantom, 

Who cannot remember me. 
But clad in a newer beauty 

And wrapped in a love divine, 
Give me the welcome of heaven. 

Oh, blest little grandmother mine! 



.^6 



an& ®tber IDerses 



THE CANDLE LIGHT 

You call him a drunken villain? 

Well, he isn't much to see. 
A poor old man in his tattered clothes 

And as wretched as he can be. 
Ah, why do I stand here pleading, 

I, who am spruce and tall? 
I've known him, you see, for a long, long while, 

He's my father, that is all. 

No, you wouldn't have owned him; 

I thought I wouldn't myself. 
But somehow my brain ran rummaging round 

Over my memory's shelf. 
And there was a thing that happened 

When I was a little lad, 
(There wasn't a person in all the world 

Dearer to me than Dad). 

A little sick boy and I lay one night. 

Alone in my trundle-bed. 
And after a while Dad came over 

And stood at the cradle head, 
And held a candle down in my face, 

And sobbed out wistfully, 
"Oh, Dannie, my own little darlin' boy, 

Are you goin' away from me?" 
.37 



Ibearfs Base 



All day, those words of my father 

Have pierced me through and through, 
Till I had to come down to this wretched place 

And see what I could do; 
For I know that the angels were watching. 

And God, too, saw the sight, 
Of a little sick boy and his Daddy dear 

A-holding the candle light. 




38 



anO ©tber IDerses 



ANGELS OF GOD 

'Tis said God'vS angels take no note of time, 
The passing years glide by like some sweet chime. 
They wait and sing before the shining One, 
Yet tremble not; Earth's yesterdays are gone. 

How strange it seems! We, too, weak as we are, 
Shall wait and sing, each one like some white star, 
In heavenly radiance, at the golden throne. 
If we be the sweet Christ's and His alone. 



39 



lbeart'0 lEase 



DA r-DA WN 

Oh Marguerite, wee Marguerite, 
She crept within the chancel old 

And heard the anthem, soothing sweet, 
Of God's blest promise manifold. 

"Ye weary pilgrim, do not weep, 
He will not, will not say thee nay, 

The Lord his own dear child shall keep 
'Tis darkest just before the day." 



Ah, very dark for Marguerite, 

A starless sky ; the snow-flakes fell 

In glistening sandals for her feet. 
And clothed her white as asphodel. 

Yet, through that waning wintry night. 

Her only coverlet the snow. 
She had such wondrous visions bright, 

Of things unheard, unseen below. 

The perfumed buds of lasting springs; 

Small cherub faces, coy and sweet, 
The rush of many angels' wings — 

The day had dawned for Marguerite. 
40 



an& ©tber IDcrses 



HIS LITTLE COMFORTER 

He had left a darkened people 

And had reached his native land, 
With a tired head, bowed and silvered, 

With an aged, trembling hand; 
All the churches rang his praises, 

Yet he answered not a word, 
They had given him the glory 

Which belonged unto his Lord. 

And his heart was filled with trouble, 

And his old eyes dim with tears. 
Had they all misunderstood him 

Through those long and weary years? 
When up spoke a little maiden 

With a quaint and gracious air, 
And he seemed to catch a glimmer 

Of God's sunshine in her hair. 

"When I think of all those spirits 

That, through Christ, thou hast set free, 
White-winged sentinels that ever 

Ope the pearly gates for thee ; 
How they'll shout their hallelujahs 

Mid the golden trumpet's din — 
I should like to be in Heaven 

When God bids thee enter in!" 

41 



Ibcart'9 Ease 



ACROSTIC 

TO NELLIE. 

Easter's holy joys be thine — 
Azure skies and God's sunshine 
Steal upon thee — bright and still, 
Touching thy dear heart, until 
Every sense of inward care 
Rolls itself away' in prayer. 



42 



anO ©tbcr Derses 



THE SLEEPING BEAUTY 

The charm was laid — that day 
A little child, whose way 
Led to a scepter's sway, 

Was doomed to sleep. 
Not for eternity — 
A hundred years should fly 
In whose strong arms she'd lie 

In slumber deep. 

Some day a prince would roam, 
Far from his kingly home. 
And hasten nigh and come 

To rescue her. 
One kiss upon her brow — 
But lo; the time is now. 
The breezes come and go 

Like perfumed myrrh. 

The master in his chair. 
The page with flowing hair, 
The holy monk at prayer. 

Close fast their eyes ; 
In turret chamber high. 
That doth but touch the sky, 
Without a smile or sigh. 

The princess lies. 
43 



Ibeart's JEase 



The maid before the glass, 

The rosy dairy lass, 

The shades that come and pass, 

Stop short each task. 
The horses in the stall, 
The portraits on the wall, 
The parrots in the hall, 

In sunshine bask. 

About the oaken floor. 
Around the castle door. 
Where midnight tempests roar, 

An ivy grows. 
On hidden treasure fair. 
On jewels, soft and rare. 
On powdered, gem-strewn hair, 

The gray dust shows. 

One day a prince full young. 
From tow'ring hedge-row sprung, 
The startled echoes rung 

In hollow tone. 
One step upon the stair. 
One kiss on forehead fair, 
And waking life is there. 

Not slumb'ring stone. 



44 



FOR LITTLE SCHOLARS 



an^ ©tber IDerses 



COUSIN ANN ELIZA'S SCHOOL 

I get so very, very tired — 

We dare not turn our heads around. 
We have to sit so still and straight 

And never make the leastest sound. 
So often, though I know it's wrong, 

When Miss Bedell explains a rule, 
I think of Uncle David's farm 

And Cousin Ann Eliza's school. 

She opens all the windows wide, 

So we can hear the robins sing ; 
We swing our feet and clap our hands, 

She doesn't mind our whispering; 
And when our heads get very tired, 

We bow them down to rest, you know, 
She never cares but only smiles — 

She loves her little scholars so. 

And just as soon as school is out, 

(We never have to stay for her) 
We rush to get the ginger cake 

That Aunt Maria likes to stir. 
Then on the door-step we sit down 

And laugh and sing and shout and play, 
I am so happy all the time, 

I never wish for Saturday. 
47 



Ibcart's iBasc 



My mother heard me telling once 

About this jolly little school, 
She opened wide her eyes and said, 

"I'm 'fraid Ann doesn't teach by rule. 
1 never said a single word, 

Yet all the happy summer long, 
We never spell a reader through. 

Or learn the first verse of a song. 




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ant> ®tber IDerscs 



A KIND LITTLE SOUL 

The little birds do sing within the garden all the day, 
I hear them sweetly chirping when I am at my play ; 
But I never, never think of hurting them, you know, 
Because they are God's creatures and I'm sure he 
loves them so. 

There is a small gray kitten in the yard, just back 

of us. 
And when she sees me coming she makes the greatest 

fuss 
To hide behind the cellar steps and jump and frighten 

me ; 
I think that little kitten 'bout as cunning as can be. 

And yesterday, by our front gate, was Tommy 

Tucker's dog, 
Pretending that he was asleep and lying like a log; 
But when he heard me coming he pricked his ears 

up so, 
Because I always pat his head and stroke his face, 

you know. 

When I am tall like father and wear a high black hat, 
1 know I'll never change my mind about a dog or cat. 
Or any other creature in earth or sea or sky, 
They'll never need to fear a thing when I am pass- 
ing by. 

49 



Ibeart's Base 



SPRIA^G SONG 

Hark the robins sweetly sing — 
List and hear the bluebells ring — 
Little Mayflowers, swinging low 
Your pale faces to and fro, 
Whispering softly, "Come and see, 
We the children's friends will be, 
Close beside the sheltering grass, 
Stoop and pluck us as you pass. 

"White and cold, the falling snow. 
Loud, the rough north winds did blow, 
But beneath our blanket white. 
Slept we through the wintry night. 
Till we heard the robins sing, 
WhisiDered we 'It is the Spring,' 
And we oped our sleepy eyes 
For the children's glad surprise.'" 



50 



anO ®tber IDerscs 



UNA PPRE CIA TED 

I stood "one hundred" on my slate — 

That was the best in all our row. 
But I'm a little orphan girl. 

There's only grandmamma to know; 
And she is very old and blind, 

And doesn't seem to understand. 
So I just kiss her wrinkled cheek 

And try to smooth her poor thin hand. 

When Dottie Kirby is the best, 

Her papa takes her on his knee, 
And slips a penny in her hand, 

Then kisses her right merrily. 
And little Johnnie's mother makes 

A ginger cookie man for him. 
I know she does, for once I had 

A bite from off his broad hat's brim. 

So, often, when I feel so sad, 

I go to where my papa lies. 
My mamma, too, is sleeping there. 

And then I look into the skies 
And wonder if the angels see; 

Or if they ever think to say, 
"That little daughter whom you left. 

Has done her very best to-day." 
51 



Ijeart's Base 



^^ THREE' 

Such a funny little fellow 
With a funny little face! 
And he wore a checkered collar 
All embroidered 'round with lace. 

He was chirp as any cricket. 
And the first at bat and ball. 
But when it came to lessons — 
Well, he wasn't there at all. 

So one pleasant day, the teacher 
Told the children they should spell, 
Wrote "to" upon the blackboard, 
"To," they answered right and well. 

"Now I'll add another 'o,' dears; 
"What's the word? Why, don't you see?' 
And'this funny little fellow, 
With a chuckle, answered, "Three!" 



an& ®tber IDetses 



HYMN FOR CLOSE OF SCHOOL 

What have the children been doing to-day? 

Tell me, O little folks, what do you say? 

We minded our teacher, and sat up quite straight. 

And always were busy with pencils and slate. 

Read pretty lessons and sang a nice tune; 

Now at the end of this bright afternoon 

We'll bow down our heads, and then softly we'll say, 

"We thank Thee, dear Lord, for this beautiful day." 



53 



Ibeart's Ease 



THE LEAF BUD 

Oh, queer little nut-brown cradle, 

Swinging on yonder tree. 
They have told me the strangest secret, 

A most wonderful mystery I 
I thought that the dull, bare branches 

Tossing against the sky 
Were dead, but I know they will blossom 

Into beauty, by and by. 

Oh, dear little nut-brown cradle, 

You treasure a tiny leaf, 
Only your nursling's babyhood 

Is very, very brief. 
But out of the blasts of winter. 

The icy sleet and the cold, 
vSafe, safe "neath the soft brown coverlet, 

The dear, little leaf you hold. 

Till kissed by the warm spring sunshine 

And rocked by the breezes sweet. 
Lo, the little brown cradle is wafted 

Down to my very feet. 
But where is the tender nursling? 

In garments of living green. 
Held close, so close, to the old tree's breast 

The fair little leaf is seen. 

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anC> ©tber IDerses 



FINGER EXERCISE 

Ten little birds in the summer sky, 
What are you doing up so high? 
Ten little birds came down to see 
What in the world the matter could be. 
Ten little birds flew up again, 
Swallow and sparrow, robin and wren. 
But as I watched them they soared away, 
And left me alone that sum.mer day. 

Ten little fingers, high in the air, 
Listen, you'll hear them snapping up there. 
Ten little fingers, quiet and small, 
Hearken, you cannot hear them at all. 
One little body, standing so straight, 
One little heart, made to love, not to hate. 
One little daughter, or one little son — 
Be seated, dear children, our frolic is done. 



55 



Ibeart's lEase 



OUT OF THE WINDOW 

[Exercise ^So«^] 

Out of the window, over the way, 
Saw I a cobbler, mending to-day ; 
Thump went the hammer on Sallie's shoe, 
"Humph," said the cobbler, "I guess you will do. 

Out of the window, over the way, 

Saw I a tailor, sewing to-day. 

How did he do it? Why to and fro 

Ran his great needle through the cloth, — so. 

Out of the window, over the way. 
Saw I the children in school, to-day. « 

What were they doing? Why, don't you know? 
Writing straight letters on pages of snow. 

Out of the window, over the way, 
Soon will be closing the gates of the day ; 
Then will the children, in robes of white, 
Sleepily murmur, ''Good night, all, good night." 



5^ 



anD ®tbec IDerscs 



ACROSTIC 

[" Columbus^^^ 

[Exercise for eight children bearing letters composing acrostic] 

C's for Columbus, so gallant and bold, 
O's for the Ocean, that tumbled and rolled, 
L's for the Light, dimly seen on the shore, 
U's the Unkindness, which Columbus bore, 
M's for his Memory, beaming and bright, 
B's for the Birth of a new world of light — 
U's for our Union, oh, long may it stand, 
S for the Shores of our dear native land. 

All 
Now, children, look quickly and tell if you can 
What is the name of this wonderful man. 



57 



Ibeart's Base 



GAME TO TEACH FIVE 

One little cat in the corner, 

Washing her furry face. 
One little cat comes to catch her ; 

Two little cats run a race. 

Two little cats in the corner, 

Each with her own plump mouse. 

One comes in from the door-yard; 
Three little cats in the house. 

Three little cats on the doorstep, 
Warming themselves in the sun. 

One comes up from the cellar ; 
Four little cats, — such fun' 

Four little cats by the window. 
Watching the twilight's ray. 

One jumps out of the basket; 
Five little cats end the day. 



5« 



an& ®tber IDerses 



THE NA UGHTT KITTY 

Little stranger, have you pity 

For a naughty little kitty, 
Who would not mind his dear mamma at all? 

But he was so very pretty. 

Such a roly poly kitty — 
When he slept he looked just like a soft gray ball. 

But he wouldn't mind his mother. 
And he taught his little brother 

How to tease and scratch the other, don't you see? 
Now the other was a sister, 
When he scratched her, a great blister 

Came upon her paw, a cruel thing, ah me! 

So his mother wouldn't hold him, 

And she put him in the cold, dim 
Cellar, in the corner, every day, 

Till the naughty little kitty. 

Oh the pity, oh the pity, 
Crept beneath the cellar door and ran away. 

'Round and 'round the great, great city. 

Ran the frightened little kitty. 
Till again he reached his own beloved door. 

Then with sighing and with sobbing, 

And with little heart a-throbbing, 
He vowed he'd mind his mother evermore. 

59 



Ibeart's Ease 



CHRISTMAS RHYME 

The beauties of the Christmas tree 
Are known both far and wide, 

Its candles bright, 

Its balls of light, 
And many things beside. 

I see a dolly swinging there. 
In robe of azure blue, 

A painted sled, 

A top of red — 
I'm sure these are for you. 

I asked Santa the other day. 
If he would bring to me — 
A parasol 
For my best doll, 
And china for my tea. 

And Bennie wants a worsted dog, 
But it must bark and run ; 
I could have named, 
(But was ashamed) 
A thousand things and one. 



an& ®tber IDerses 



The beauties of the Christmas tree 
Are known both far and wide, 

Its candles bright, 

Its balls of light, 
And many things beside. 




6i 



Ibeart'5 JEase 



THE BAB 7'\S VISIT 

Once there was a baby, 

So I've heard it told, 
Eyes of deepest azure, 

Hair of ruddy gold ; 
And she paid a visit 

To a little school, 
Where the gentle teacher 

Taught the Mystic Rule. 

Everything seemed wondrous 

To the baby's eyes; 
Everything the children did 

Filled her with surprise. 
"Write, my little scholars, 

Patiently and slow, 
You shall name the prettiest slates, 

When we marching go." 

Ah, life's veriest sunshine 

Filled each little face. 
And the pointed pencils 

Moved with patient grace. 
But the baby's letters 

Wouldn't stand up straight. 
Oh, the crooked pot-hooks 

On her little slate. 
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an5 ®tber Derses 



This one named his sweetheart, 

This her little beau; 
But the fair child visitor 

Had no one, you know. 
So when she was questioned, 

Azure eyes a-shine. 
Answered, "All are pitty, 

But the pittiest one is mine. " 




63 



Ibeart'6 Ease 



ACROSTIC 

[" Christ mas''''\ 

C is for Christmas, most holy and bright, 
H for the Happiness, born of delight, 
R for the Ringing of bells, sweet and clear 
I for the Interest God has in us here, 
S for the Star, shining bright in the sky, 
T for the Tidings, sent forth from on high, 
M for the Morning, most glorious of all, 
A for the Angels who sang at his call, 
S for the Savior, asleep in the stall. 



64 



ant) ©tber l^erses 



EXERCISE SONG 

Air: " 77/e Whistling Coon'' 

Sing, sing, oh, what shall I sing? 
My little kitty sang a pretty tune, 

She opened wide her jaws. 

And clapped her tiny paws, 
She did so well I gave her a gold spoon. 
Chorus: 

Left, right, rest together now, 

Raise your heels and clap your little hands; 
Turn, bow, all erect once more. 

Oh, how well each little scholar stands! 

Sing, sing, oh, what shall I sing? 

I heard a gentle tapping at the door; 

There stood a snowy pig, 

Who danced a funny jig, 
From half past seven until nearly four. 

Chorus. — 

Sing, sing, oh, what shall I sing? 

I know one of the dearest little schools, 

Where all the children work 

And never, never shirk. 
And everybody minds the teacher's rules. 

Chorus. — 

65 



tbeart's lEase 



THE LESSON OF THE ANTS 

I didn't want to go to school, 

I hated ev'ry single rule, 

And so I took my picture book, 

And went down by the meadow brook. 

And sat myself beneath a tree, 

And spread the book upon my knee. 

But then I couldn't read, you know, 

Because the sunbeams flickered so, 

And casting my two eyes around, 

I saw the ants upon the ground, 

All making nests within the sand, 

Oh, what a merry, busy band ! 

There wasn't one who stopped to play, 

They worked and worked and worked away, 

And this is what I heard them say, 

"Fie, naughty child, to run away, 

For Time is ever on the wing. 

He doesn't wait for anything." 

I was ashamed to think that I 
Who knew much better, shouldn't try. 
And so I shut my picture book 
And left that lov^ely meadow brook. 
With all its sunshine and its birds 
And went to school to study words. 

66 



ant) ©tber Derses 



I learned my lessons o'er and o'er 
Much better than I had before 
Until the letters seemed to dance, 
And then they looked like little ants, 
And this is what I heard them say, 
"O little scholar, work away, 
For Time is ever on the wing. 
He doesn't wait for anything." 




67 



